I rocked up to the gym last night, as I do every night, completely surrounded by sexy women caressing my fine form. Fortunately these lovely ladies provide me with a barrier to protect me against the throng of dudes all hoping to get my autograph and the possibility of having a photo with their idol. It's a bit of a hassle, but I'm not like other celebrities, I care for my fans and understand that my status, my fame, means I am considered public property.

So after much bustling, I'm finally able to close the door, having to tear the females fingers from my flesh to prepare for class, happy that the Sarama has begun as it is drowning out the sounds of helicopters, shrieks of fans and spoken reports from the numerous news crews pressed against the glass hoping to catch a glimpse of me in action.

As I wrap my hands, my fellow MTers acknowledge my presence by bowing deeply and reverently, to which I throw up the "hang loose" sign and C-walk to my locker, eliciting a spontaneous and rapturous applause that lasts a full fifteen minutes, three times as long as the dance itself.

I notice that there is a new guy in the class, by himself, jabbing the heavy bag over and over again, with terrible timing and absolutely no style. His physique is impressive, like a pro wrestler that obviously does isolation exercises, although he doesn't compare to an Adonis like myself. He has the audacity to ignore me, however I let it slide as it is apparent he is a meathead with tiny testicles.

I take pity on the fool and decide to teach him technique, because as you probably don't know, once you have attained the perfection that I have in all endeavours, you must assist others in their ultimately futile quest to do the same. It's part of the Code of Being Perfect, you wouldn't understand. I take him through some basics, laughing at his footwork, his substandard power and his ridiculous stance. It is a motivational laugh, all of my actions are motivational, because I am to what everyone aspires.

After drilling some techniques with Baggo Walnuts, dubbed due to his frankly humourous-to-a-trained-fighting-machine physique, I instructed the instructor to have the class do some work with the Thai pads. As I am incredibly strong and stupendously talented, I had to gauge my power on the heavy bags first before unleashing on the Thai pads while Baggo was holding them. Having destroyed three bags as well as putting a hole in the fourth, and having tossed them from the gym floor into a dumpster in the next suburb I felt I had toned down my power sufficiently to be able to use on Bubble Bicep Bobby, henceforth my new name for Baggo Walnuts.

We begin and he starts calling out techniques.

"1!"
BOOM!
"1!"
BOOM!
"1!"
BOOM!
"1!"
BOOM!

Heartily I doubled over with laughter, again, a motivating laugh, "mix it up, I can't do jabs all night" I say, staring into his soul and choking it with my Mind Jits.

"1,2!"
CRACK, BOOM!
"1,2!"
CRACK, BOOM!
"1,2!"
CRACK, BOOM!

"I have to remember you are a complete novice, less than a squashed cockroach on the shoes I don't wear anywhere near the gym!" I chuckled slightly at the analogy, only then realising that the rest of the class had heard my booming and authoritative voice and was in uproar, rolling on the floor in borderline hysterics. I made the cutthroat gesture and the laughing ceased.

"When I say mix it up, you insignificant speck of smegma on a syphilitic penis that has been kicked by a TaeKwonDoer..." the laughing erupted again, this time I let it die down of it's own accord. Fifteen minutes later, I continued, "...this is a Muay Thai class, not a boxing class, give me some combinations with some kicks."

Balloon Boy stared at me blankly, the look that I have come to expect from everyone as they realise they are standing in the presence of greatness. I released my Mind Jits Bow and Arrow and his brain function returned to it's normal retarded state. He started giving combos:

By now the rafters of the gym were terrifyingly loosened and the instructor looked over to me, his fear of the gym collapsing on top of us evident in his eyes, it indicated to me that I should holster my rear leg.

"Novice!" my voice barely above a whisper yet everyone in the gym stood to attention, as well as those outside. I nodded to the instructor, giving him permission to stand at ease and continue instructing the class. I directed the rest of my statement to it's intended recipient, "you will provide me with opportunity to work on my lead leg kicks now."

He stopped. I thought it was time I released my Mind Jits D'Arce Choke anyway, but the next thing he said had me stunned.

"You need to keep your hands up, they're dropping too low."

Can you believe the ego on this guy?

8/21/2012 11:38pm,

Big Bear

seriously, what the **** have you been smokin?

8/21/2012 11:51pm,

The Question

Quote:

Originally Posted by Big Bear

seriously, what the **** have you been smokin?

Yeah, whatever the **** it is, I'm going to need a pound of that ****.

8/21/2012 11:58pm,

Big Bear

Quote:

Originally Posted by The Question

Yeah, whatever the **** it is, I'm going to need a pound of that ****.

****'n' A

8/22/2012 12:22am,

dflanmod

Quote:

Originally Posted by Big Bear

seriously, what the **** have you been smokin?

Pole.

8/22/2012 12:35am,

battlefields

Quote:

Originally Posted by dflanmod

Pole.

There it is, people, dflanmod admitting he is a pole smoker.

8/22/2012 1:10am,

Tranquil Suit

Quote:

Originally Posted by battlefields

There it is, people, dflanmod admitting he is a pole smoker.

Sorry, you can't reverse that one.

And seriously, don't post after spending all night doing one arm push-ups and snorting huge rails of coke.

8/22/2012 1:21am,

The Question

Quote:

Originally Posted by Tranquil Suit

spending all night doing one arm push-ups and snorting huge rails of coke.

****, this sounds like a motherfucking good time.

8/22/2012 1:23am,

Big Bear

Quest - would you rather have this brand new car, chauffered for you by Carmen Electra in a latex catsuit, or this 5 kilo brick of the finest columbian that Empyrean Magazine could find?

8/22/2012 1:32am,

battlefields

Quote:

Originally Posted by Tranquil Suit

Sorry, you can't reverse that one.

And seriously, don't post after spending all night doing one arm push-ups and snorting huge rails of coke.

All I could think of when posting that reply was Adam Sandler saying, "you eat pieces of **** for breakfast?" I knew it was a "no you are" response, but the one arm push ups fucked with my brain and the coke was hurting my typing arm.